


Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume 2.5

by theladymia



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Endgame, Slow Burn, Starthor, ThunderLord, endgame spoilers, thorquill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladymia/pseuds/theladymia
Summary: A fic taking place 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 after the last scene with Thor and Peter in Avengers: Endgame. Multi-chapter, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers, with cameos from the famous cast. Will eventually contain smut and violence, and each chapter will be labelled with specific tags or warnings.Thor joins the Guardians and recommends that the crew help with the post-war effort, to help return the galaxy to the state it was in before the first snap. Peter is pissed because it's a really good idea and he wishes he came up with it first. Rocket tells the two of them to stop being testosterone-filled maniacs and watch the road.





	1. Princess

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! thank you so much for checking out my fic! it means the world to me. this will be my first longscale fic (don't look at my stucky highschool fic pls), i'm aiming for like 50k+ words here. hopefully it gets there!! as of may 18, 2019, when chapter one was first posted, there is no smut or violence, but the rating and tags will change as it is updated. thank you to my good friend who does not have a tumblr or an ao3 i can link to for editing this first chapter. you can find me on tumblr and twitch @theladymia. please enjoy, and thanks again!!

     “Perhaps, we shall head to Earth to help repair the lands after the battle.” Thor scratches the back of his neck, and his knuckles brush against the somewhat-dreaded locks of hair.

      Just a moment ago, before Thor came into the room, Peter thought of Gamora. He felt shameful, because he’d been wishing that someone else had been Decimated instead of him. That way, he could've had longer to heal after losing his girl. It all felt like it lasted less than a day; time in the Soul stone went so fast (Rocket enlightened him that five years passed in what felt like only minutes in the… _afterlife? Is that what that place was?_ ), and the day of the snap, the day he lost her, was really about half a day for him. Now, even as Thor speaks to him, Peter thinks of the new Gamora, the one who had never met him. He thinks about whether or not it'd be worth it to build everything he built with her again. He curses at himself for thinking such a thing, of _course it would be worth it, anything’s worth it for my girl._ It couldn’t be so hard. She kicked him in the nuts earlier today, but it’s _not like it ain’t somethin’ she'd’a done before._ “Huh?” Peter turns to Thor, and disapproves of the crumbs in his beard. “Naw, I’ve had enough of Missouri.”

     A deep, isolated flame in Thor rumbles in disapproval. _How could this man put himself first,_ it says, _when there are people who need his help?_ Thor shrugs, unknowingly disrespecting the fire. He’s been doing that for years, as Brunnhilde would often nag him about. “Mm,” he hums, “ well, we could have words with Carol about what other planets may need our assistance.” He approaches the map again, and plants his finger in the familiar floating projection and swipes to the side, bringing about a map. As Thor manipulates the tech in the air in front of him, Peter wonders where he learned to use it. As far as he knew, this projector was one of only a few models; he stole it when he was 17 from an abandoned factory that was going to mass-manufacture them, but got shut down for unsafe work conditions. After some navigating, Thor finds the symbol Carol has printed on the chest of her armor. It’s a GPS-style locator, saying where she is. _A planet called Jaleco, similar to terran worlds. A comfortable 80% gravity, breathable air, forest-based. Should be comfortable for him,_ Thor thinks.

     “Words with who?” Peter asks, afraid he’s missing something big. He frowns as he watches Thor pull up information he’s never known he could get. The display gives info like what type of planet it was, environment, average temperature, even some news from the civilians (oddly, though, the news that came up was about 5 years out of date). _Damn it, Thor’s always gotta show off._

     Thor looks over his shoulder to Quill, still holding his hand out to control the map, before turning back to the projection and continuing to manipulate it. “Remember the glowing woman from the battle?”

     “Naw, was too busy kickin’ ass.” Peter says casually, hands on his hips and eyes squinting as he examines the map.

     “Well, she carries the power of the Tesseract within her veins.” Thor sets a course for the planet. “In those five years after the Decimation, while the Avengers repaired the Earth, she patrolled the rest of the universe, trying to fix what…” _what you did, what you couldn't stop “_ happened.”

     Peter notices Thor’s struggle. He feels a tang of guilt as he watches the Asgardian cogs in Thor’s head turn while he tries to, assumedly, rid terrible thoughts from his head. Peter would have no clue how to comfort him, even if he had the nuts to do it. But he’ll try. “But… she’s not as powerful as you, though, right? You’re like, a God.” Peter bargains with him. _Oh, that sounded way too kiss-ass-y, dude._ “I mean…” he clasps his hands together and leans against a pillar nearby, “I’m _also_ a god, so like…” He shrugs, raising his brow and pushing his bottom lip out, and spreads his thumbs out from his clasped hands in a “consider _that_ ” manner. Thor continues to space out, but he doesn’t know it. He thinks he is frozen in the air, suspended terribly over his people as they mourn, clutching piles of dust the tightest they can before it slides from their fists. “She can’t be as strong as me.” He listens as Asgardian screams fill the morbidly dry air around him, and for a moment, his mind grants him enough clearness to awfully understand how that sound has deterred royal enemies for so long. _Why can’t he hear them? Why does he not cough as he breathes this air?_ Thor clears his throat uncomfortably, with wide, shaking eyes. _How does he stand there, so strong and stable? What must I do to be in his boots? What… what did he say?_

     A metal rattling rings out from behind the two. Peter jumps up to his feet, but quickly notices it’s just Rocket setting something down. “Thor? Captain’s talkin’ to ya, buddy.” He says, gracefully hopping to the floor from the table. He started calling Peter captain ever since he came back. Felt right.

     Thor’s cheeks suddenly hurt, and it sends him into a bit of panic, but he reasons that he might be smiling. “Captain?” He laughs, or the little person pulling the levers in his brain makes him laugh. “I thought you were the captain, Rocket! Have you given up so soon?” Thor felt robotic. These phrases, the movements, they aren’t his. Or, maybe, a different version of his. Who knows what’s possible after all that time travel. He just knows it doesn’t feel right, but automatic.

     Peter starts off of the pillar and looks to the two of them. “Nope. No.” He holds a finger up to both of them. “This is _my_ ship. Mine. _I_ am the captain. I’m not _sayin’_ it again.” He clenches his jaw.

     Rocket crosses his little arms and looks to Thor as he talks. “Rocket here was cybernetically engineered to pilot a ship, I believe. Of course he’s the captain! Now, Rocket, we must go to this planet. Carol may already have a project started on the relief aid.” Thor adjusts to the new body that he was given by the little guy in his head moments ago, and regains control. His actions are truly his.

     Rocket dramatically rolls his eyes and sighs hard enough to hear his own voice in it. He walks over to Quill and looks to Thor. “Ya know, as much as I love bein’ captain, I think Quill should take the mantle.” He looks to Peter, whose brows are furrowed and arms crossed. Rocket grabs a longsword-- something old of Gamora’s-- and taps both of Peter’s shoulders. “There. You’re captain now. Congrats. Don’t screw it up.” He tosses the sword to the side and storms off.

     Watching the act, even though informal, reminded Thor of home. He remembers being young and small, watching members of the royal guard getting promoted. He remembers swinging his feet off of a chair too big for him, feeling bad for the peasants who needed to come in from the fields, prepare themselves, and head to the palace. It’s a long journey from the outskirts of the city; almost half of it is rural, and there are only so many transport units that can take the citizens up to the castle. Now, seeing the impromptu ceremony, his father’s wise, shaking voice speaks to him. Says something… Something about respecting the act he just witnessed. He doesn’t listen to those little quips from his father anymore. “Well. Look at that.” He says, giving a nod and a smile to Quill. “Now. Take us to Jaleco. I must speak with Danvers.” He turns, headed off to the kitchen.

     Peter finally unclenches his jaw, sighs, and turns to the map. A bratty tone emits from him as he asks after Thor. “Alright, course is set. You got everything you need, princess?”

     He remembers when Malekith called him that, and in reaction, he started a war, eternally pissing off his father. Now, he just smiles. He felt so strongly connected to his family, back when he had one. It only took a few big fights for all of them to vanish, each one right before his eyes. A few familial deaths at his fault? Surely, he could handle that, with a few years of accidental space (and self) exploration. But half of all living things? That ended him. As he drank, ate, and sat around, he got used to not having a family. Korg and Miek were roommates at best. His own blood was truly gone, and the rest of Avengers went off and destroyed the family they had, too. When he met Brunnhilde, she was still slow to warm up to him. But now, as Peter feels threatened enough by Thor just standing in the same room as him to flex his arms, and Groot never once greets him, and no one speaks of the empty co-pilot chair, he remembers what it was like to have someone who had no choice but to unconditionally love you. So, Thor turns around, back to Star-Lord, and speaks sincerely, but lightly. “I’ve got everything I need right here, Quill.”

     Peter settles into the pilot’s chair as he shouts off to Thor, not turning, or really absorbing what he said at all. “Good, because I don’t feel like makin’ any stops.” The nose of the ship lifts off.

     Thor closes his eyes, absorbing the response and tucking it into his empty chest before turning into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and searches for anything with alcohol, and finds a Terran beer. He wonders how Quill got it. Assuredly, from what he said a moment ago, he hasn't been to Earth since he was taken from it. Maybe he went out of his way to find the drinks, by maybe ordering them or paying a smuggler. Maybe, when he was young and still had no knowledge of what was past the clouds, his mother let him have some of the same beer on occasion, after church, maybe, because they couldn't afford wine. _Maybe you're fantasizing too much about Peter’s childhood._

     Peter adjusts slowly into his pilot chair, sitting further and further down until his legs bend out obscenely from underneath the controls. He finally adjusts the control dashboard, by flicking a switch and shoving the board down and close, with a loud jolt as the mechanic settles into place. He looks over to the section where his walkman used to be. Now, it's an empty square with wires sticking out, waiting ignorantly to be plugged in. The zune sits there, half of its length sticking out from the casing, screen dim. He taps the wheel that controls it and the dull green display lights up. He scrolls through the artists, stopping occasionally at the ones he’d usually play as the ship took off, headed to battle, but today… today is different. _I’m Not In Love. 10cc. 1975._

     Thor looks up from his bottle, listening to the gentle synthesizer. Eric Stewart’s shy, flushed voice reminds Thor of what it was like to be sweet on someone. He hadn't thought that way in so long. It’d been almost 7 years since he ever had interest in anyone. Jane made him feel like he had something to fight for, someone who was always going to be there to give him what he couldn't get himself. After leaving her, leaving Earth, he became preoccupied with ruling, then (for a short time) escaping, and now, hiding. He’d never admit that it was hiding. To him, it was a break. Even now, if someone accused him of being lazy, he’d immaturely beg that he was back to saving the world, alongside Quill. Alongside Quill.

 

_I’m not in love_

_So don’t forget it_

_It’s just a silly phase I’m going through_

 

     Peter’s gaze never goes past the reflection of the dome-shaped windshield and into the stars as the Guardians settle into their seats. Drax plops into his chair, clearing his throat and setting down his knives with a clatter. Mantis, with her knees close together and her arms tight to her sides, bends to gently seat herself. She rests her folded hands in her lap, and looks down at them with a cocked head and begging-to-be-wandering eyes. Nebula stays at the spot she’s picked since joining them; leaning against the pillar that enters from the cockpit to the airlock, where she’d observe as they fought, resolved, fought again, and won, over and over, but it doesn't make her as sick anymore. Rocket carefully watches each of Peter’s micromovements as he guides the ship forward, ready to criticize. When he finds no flaws, he turns to Groot to scold him. Groot completely ignores him, and stares into his game, ever focused. And Gamo--

     “Quill? Is it okay if I sit here?” Thor gently (as gently as possible for a guy like him) asks of Peter, referring to the seat behind Rocket’s. He wants to say no. No, that's for her, and she's coming back, we just have to find her and convince her that she trusts us. Instead, he nods, his lips parted and eyes wide like a curious child as Thor sits. He fits. Not just physically, but… he does. Usually, that seat was reserved for someone of grace and seriousness, of lean muscle and long, dark lava hair. And Thor… well, he couldn’t be further from every single one of those characteristics. But he still fits.

     Thor fights the urge to slide down into the chair, with his ass on the end of the seat. For the past half decade, that’s how he sat; he’d develop that soreness that came with sitting on your lower back instead of your ass, and that pain usually came about when the earaches did, too. While he played game after game, match after match, he sank further and further, and the gaming headset pressed on, cutting off circulation to his ears. When he got both of those aches, he knew he’d have to get up and get about, since it takes about eight hours of no movement and no breaks from the headset and the TV to feel that way. Now, after he’s done more moving and shaking in the past day than he has in the past five years, he wants nothing more than to sink down, close his eyes, and take a nap. But not in this chair. Not in her chair, and definitely not right in front of him.

     Groot looks up from his game for the first time in awhile to see what changes have gone about around him. He looks to the large figure in the chair meant for the smallest. He cries out, “I am Groot!” while jabbing a turned-up, open hand towards Thor. He looks to Peter, ready for a fight.

     “Woah! Hey, that is _not cool!_ ” He points back at him, after yelling at him with a genuinely upset tone. It wakes Thor up, and puts him into anxiety. “We’ve all been through a lot today, including him, so we need to be nice to him and treat him like family!”

     Thor watches the exchange with a spooked expression. He looks down at the chair, and in total fear, he does everything he can to not touch the chair without actually getting up. He couldn’t ever replace her, though, they must know that, he thinks to himself. She was graceful, intense, and cared deeply for her family. Thor can offer nothing but his thanks for allowing the Guardians to take him on. Even as Groot and Quill yell at each other over Thor’s head, he looks down to his body, and his thoughts take off. _Look at you. Why are you doing this? So big. You let go. Look at you, thinking of yourself as they fight over you. Burden. Fat. Groot doesn’t want you here. Can’t be like her._

     “I am Groot!” he says, and Thor’s breath stops. His jaw trembles, and he tells his eyes what to do, or what not to do, as he processes what Groot’s implying. _Of course. See? Of course. He didn’t need to say it, though, you already knew it, you fatfuckyou--_

     “Alright, _enough!”_ Peter nearly yells, his head shaking tightly as the last syllable ends. He knows he’s gone too far as soon as the words leave his mouth, because the look on Groot’s face made him feel like he kicked a puppy. For Thor, each moment of the scolding lasts so long. He’s never seen Peter so mad before, and by the looks of everyone’s faces, neither has anyone else. It takes him right out of his self-concerned thoughts, though, since Groot stays silent, frozen, for only a moment before sharply turning a la Nebula and heading off to his room. Thor slowly looks to Quill. His eyes are glossy, his brows furrowed, and his jaw tight. All at once, he blinks, looks down, huffs out a breath, and sits back down at the pilot’s chair.

     Thor definitely feels out of place now. He’s never been in this position before. Before, Thor fought the uproaring arguments to protect one he cared for; now, he sits in the damn chair, feeling guilty, but... grossly pleased as he watches the muscles flex in Peter’s jaw.

     “Let this… be a message for everyone. Everyone on my ship is family. We treat family with _respect_. The way you’d want to be treated.” He stops, letting the rule sink in for everyone else. Then, he mutters, “‘Cuz’ I sure wouldn’t wanna be treated like that.”

     Peter remembers the day he got smacked up by the boy who killed the frog. He was 8, his mom was dying, he had no daddy, and he was too young, even for the 80’s, to help pay the bills. Watching that jerk hurt that little guy pissed him off for real, and he remembers feeling like something hot and fast was pushing him towards that kid with a fist in the air. Sure, that day Peter lost his first and only adult tooth, but he felt like he pummelled a message in that bully’s brain. Plus, he got to see the guy cry. Made the frog’s death a little more worth dyin’.

     Peter’s not sure why he remembered that story just then, but it made him feel better. He relaxes his shoulders and stretches his trapezius muscles before reaching out and pressing the big button on his Zune to play whatever song it was hovering over last before. _September. Earth, Wind, & Fire. 1978. _

     The song pulls Thor out of his oncoming panic. It feels wrong to adjust so quickly from one mood to another, but he can’t help it. Now that he completely understands internet humor, he knows that this song, albeit great, is a meme. He can’t help but smile-- the cobwebs strung between the muscles in his cheeks fall apart as he stretches his lips. It feels so good, he even goes to show his teeth in a full, bright smile. He looks to Quill, trying to catch his eye, as he wiggles and sways in his seat to the rhythm.

     Peter catches some movement in the corner of his eye, and looks over. He’s greeted by a smiling Thor, and the rest of his stress falls away. He feels lighter, and man, is it easier to dance that way. He laughs, and looks back to the stars in front of him. He sings along.

 

_Our hearts were ringing_

_In the key that our souls were singing_

_As we danced in the night_

_Remember how the stars stole the night away_

 

     They feel drunk. Their laughter fills their chests with air, and they're only encouraged to laugh harder. Peter hits the highs and Thor hits the lows, and they harmonize as the rest of the crew fade off to their bunks. When Thor watches the jump point soar past, he doesn't say anything. He decides he’ll wait a few more songs before bearing the news to Quill. For now, Thor watches Quill's expressions as he sings the songs of his adolescence, and revels in each time he does that thing where he shows his teeth on only one side as he croons out a note.


	2. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter comes to a realization, and the gang lands on Jaleco a little earlier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are no particular warnings associated with this chapter, except maybe a small hint of nebula/mantis :) thanks so much for reading!

     It takes about 30 minutes for Peter to remember he has a destination. The white dots move so fast past the ship’s windshield, it reminds him of when he’d get heavy snow back home. He’d sit in the passenger seat of his uncle’s truck, trying to get his feet to touch the ground, as he saw the peculiar way that the snowflakes would dash right for the windshield, and then, at the last second, they’d swoop upward, saving their demise for another car window. 

     Thor sings along to the music, and every once and awhile, he looks over to Quill, noticing that he’s off in another world. He suspects Quill thinks of easier times, especially considering the songs that are playing are from before. It’s cute to watch, sure, but Thor wants the attention back. So, he stands up, gets behind Peter’s chair, grabs the shoulders of it, and dances behind him, making it quite hard for Peter to look past the silly, warped reflection in the windshield while he flew. 

     As Volume One plays throughout the ship, the crew prepares for landing. Mantis packs a knife; Drax packs  _ two _ knives; Rocket packs everything he could fit into a backpack his size; Groot bringst his portable console charger. They get to the end of the mix-- _ I Want You Back,  _ Jackson 5, 1969--when Peter comes to the realization that they passed their jump point. He immediately slaps Thor on the shoulder to gain his attention, who freezes in the middle of doing the Fortnite default dance, and shouts.

     “Aw, shit-- dude, we missed the exit!” Thor only greets him with a knowing, guilty smile. It takes a moment for Peter to make the connection that Thor purposefully let him pass the exit, and Thor quietly enjoys watching how expressive Quill is as he realizes it. “Wh-- come on, man! It’s gonna--” Quill starts to break into laughter here-- “it’s gonna be another 30 minutes back, and ten to land!”

     Thor breaks into godly giggles, and doubles over, holding his stomach. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I had to. We were…” he catches a glance of Peter laughing with him, “we were having so much fun, I just wanted to keep relaxing.” He bravely looks to Peter after his admittance.

     Peter stutters. “Ha! Uh, yeah, I mean, we can continue to jam out when we land-- a-as long as it’s safe down there, n’ stuff.” Beaming from ear to ear, he looks from the windshield to Thor and back, watching for any changes in his expression.

     Thor smiles, excited. “Excellent.” Thor hadn’t felt giddy like this in a long time. The last time, he recalls now, was before battle. The elation that came with the discovery of Rogers’ worthiness was strong. During the battle, even in the heat of the intensity with the Mad Titan, he laughed. He watched Steve stick his hand out, trying to summon Mjolnir. He’d seen Steve do it so many times in the past, mostly as a joke in lighter times. Watching him do it then was different; it gave him a somber chuckle. He thought Steve was making his last joke as he admitted his loss to their enemy. Then, Mjolnir flew to Steve’s hand, and all Thor could think of  was pride for his dear friend. Now, Thor feels giddy for (comparably) no reason at all. He had been subconsciously associating Peter with Thanos because Thor was only ever around him before or after fighting the purple giant. Being around Peter in such a relaxed state felt new. To see Peter in his passive state, with his legs spread obnoxiously in the pilot seat as he casually maneuvered space in the Benatar with expertise, it made Thor feel… strong again. And damn, did he want more.

     The planet got bigger and bigger as they neared it, but it doesn’t look like they were getting any closer until suddenly an orange hue blankets the ship as they dive into Jaleco. Peter reaches over and pages Thor. “Know anything about this place, Thor?”

     Thor’s never heard of Jaleco. He taps the button on the wall to respond. “No, but I could contact a friend of mine. He knows everyth…” He’s  _ dead. Heimdall is dead. _

     “Alright, go ahead and do that,” Peter drawls, unaware of the sorrow beginning to cloud in Thor’s head, and says, “We’ll be landing in a few.” Peter switches the ship from autopilot and starts to guide the ship past orbit.

_      No, Peter, I can’t. I’ve been so used to this relaxed life, where I would never need Heimdall’s knowledge; now that I’m back to war, I slipped up and forgot what it’s like to need him. And now I have to remember.  _

     Peter struggles to focus until he pages him again. “You hear me, bud?”

     “He was killed. He was… he can’t come back.” Thor shamefully admits. He remembers seeing the yellow-gold glow in his eyes fade as the blade in his chest forcefully twisted. 

     Peter listens, confused, as Thor continues. “We’ll just have to learn as we go, Quill.” Thor’s voice transmits, quietly. Peter blinks, uncomfortable and sorry. The past few times Thor had lost focus when it came to talking about the snap, Quill tried to pretend he didn't notice, but there was no ignoring it now. A tang of guilt licks through him. He lost people that couldn’t be returned, too. At least not completely returned.

     Suddenly, a ship, or something large and dark and similar to one, hurls into the side of the Benatar, cracking a wing and setting lights and alarms off instantly. Before they can react, the ship starts falling to the surface of the planet as opposed to the previous controlled dive. Rocket’s loud complaining (“I told him, we needed to invest in stronger thermal shields! This  _ dumbo _ has  _ no idea how to care for a ship!”) _ and Mantis’ consistently high-pitched scream causes Peter to frantically flick switches he already knows won't help the situation. He curses to himself. 

     “What the _ hell _ , man, I  _ just  _ finished a world-saving battle! Give me a break!” He slams the dashboard with his fists in a frustrated display. “Thor, I can’t get control of the systems!”

     Thor had already been fastening his armor when he turned to the crew and shouted, “Prepare for a crash landing, everyone!” He quickly turns to Quill, and leans in to his ear to yell over the alarms. “I can go out there to try and minimize the damage, but I can’t do it at the speed that we’re going!” He plants his heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder as the ship jostles them around. “I need you to slow this rig down, okay? Can you  _ do _ that, Peter?”

     Peter--wide eyed, slack jawed, and sweating--moves instantly so instantly from panic to heroic bravery as he hears Thor call him “Peter” for the first time. “Yeah. Yes-- yes. I can.” He nods.

     Thor freezes everything but his eyes as he soaks in each minute detail of Peter’s face. He notices that, even though his eyes are widened, his eyelids still fall heavy, pushing his short eyelashes down. He notices that his widow’s peak isn’t centered. He notices that one of his sideburns doesn’t point towards his mouth like the other, but instead, his nose. And he notices that the corners of Peter’s mouth… aren’t turned downward. Then, the alarm reminds him of the emergency at hand. 

     Thor nods his head, trusting him, and says, “Alright, good luck.” He lifts his hand from Quill’s shoulder, backs away, then runs to the airlock. While the emergency space suit forms over his body, enveloping him from between his shoulder blades, Thor wipes those thoughts from his mind and tries to compute the best possible course of action.

     As the airlock’s protective shield closes down, preventing the rest of the ship from depressurizing, Thor takes a few steps back.  _ Get Mjolnir, or Stormbreaker, whoever comes first, and use her to get to the bow of the ship. _ Thor starts to stride forward, ready for the external door to open.  _ Cross their hilts, press them against the nose, and push. Use your own power only if you must. _ Drax holds Mantis gently by her shoulders, his auric eyes piercing his concerned gaze through Thor’s sweatshirt as Thor charges ever closer to the unlocking door.  _ When your force and the ship’s speed matches, guide them safely to the surface. _ Groot and Rocket wince in preparation as they realize what’s going to happen, and--

     A resounding, metallic thud rings out, and Thor hits the ground after running, full-speed, into the thick door. Then it smoothly opens, sucking Thor out into space. A moment later, Mjolnir passes by the view of the audience, who are recoiling after witnessing the injury. “We are most certainly going to die!” Mantis exclaims.

     At the bridge, Peter hysterically pulls back on the speed control, while also trying to find what direction to point the ship at to help it slow down. He thanks the big guy upstairs--  _ wait, if Thor is a real God, does that mean God doesn’t exist?--  _ that the ship isn’t spinning while he holds back vomit from the turbulence. “Aww, come on, come on come on come  _ on!” _ He shouts to himself as a piece of shrapnel falls off the front of the ship and then instantly flies back into the windshield, cracking it. He looks up at the monitors and finds the one covering outside the airlock.

     Thor panicked as he flew faster than he’s ever consented to, but luckily, he was born with just enough co-ordination to catch the loose cable hanging from the cracked wing. He clasps his hands around each other, clapping the cord between them. The speeding air forces the cable to straighten out, whipping Thor behind the ship like a flag in heavy wind--he carefully launches each hand forward, and inches closer to the base of the cord. Then, he thrusts his hand forward, and while he waits, he surveys the hanging scrap around him, preparing for his next move.

     Groot covers his ears and stomps in fear as Mantis screams basically right into his ears, and Drax pulls them both tight into his chest with his own eyes shut. Mjolnir flies by the open airlock again, gathering the attention of the peanut gallery. They all pause, and Drax opens his eyes to watch it go by. Then, they continue to scream.

     Thor uses the momentum on the backswing after catching Mjolnir to jump forward to the front of the ship, right at the bend of the windshield. He sticks the hilt of his hammer in between some scrap metal that pierced the glass, and then sticks his other hand out, waiting for Stormbreaker. In that moment, he looks to Peter through the glass, who is standing with his hands pressed on the dashboard, watching each move of Thor’s with a gaping jaw and wide eyes. Stormbreaker arrives, and the two clash together, making a bright spark. He crosses the two at the hilt, and instantly, the ship jolts in response to the tension, sending Peter and everyone on-board into some pointy furniture.

     “1500 meters, Thor! Maybe you should stop dickin’ around out there and prevent us all from dying terrible deaths!” Rocket’s voice scratches through.

     “Rrraaaagh!” Thor lets out, pushing his weight against his weapons. He starts to feel warm as static energy fills his bones, and he shuts his eyes tight, yelling even louder as the ground nears at a rapid rate.

     “Prepare for impact!” Peter yells, and makes a mad dash down the short two-step staircase onto the main floor. As if a grenade had been thrown onto the main level, Peter quickly jumps into his cabin below, and with a terrified look on his face, he shuts the trap door on his way down.

     “ _ Rrrrrrraaaaaaagh! _ ” Thor feels branches hitting his feet, and the trees that whip against the ship’s side significantly slow the ship down. Unfortunately, they twist and flip the ship as it comes down, too. He spreads his arms, trying to support as much of the ship as he can, but to no avail. He skids his ass on the ground a few times as the ship unearths small bushes and rips apart the homes of small wild animals, and manages to roll to the side into safety. 

     Peter, even in the safety of the captain’s quarters, is tossed into his dresser. The sharp metal corner pierces Peter’s shirt and scratches the center of his back, causing him to concave his whole body in response, and let out a tiered shout. “Ohh-- aaah, aah, haah!” Groot had been tightly holding onto Rocket for protection when a support beam came falling down and knocked him on the shoulder, pushing him into Drax, who tripped on some scrap and fell onto his elbow. Mantis and Nebula worked together to free the latter from a sharpened pipe that had pierced her thigh through, and Nebula, quietly, so no other Guardian can hear her softness, assured Mantis that she could replace the parts and it didn’t hurt.

     Thor groans quietly in the mud, rocking slowly as he nurses his injuries by not moving. He fears opening his eyes to a ticking, leaking ship, filled with his newfound family, right before it blows. So he doesn’t open his eyes until he hears a victorious “Fuck yeah!” from Quill. He quickly moves his arm from his face and looks over, and sees the distant figure of a man standing with both fists raised to the sky. “Woo! Yes!”

     Thor starts to laugh, and then he suddenly can’t stop as he holds his chest, heaving in happiness. He rolls his eyes as he hears Rocket’s heavy-accented yelling at Groot, saying something like “you can’t hold me so tight like that, dude, I’m only ten pounds!” Thor gets up, happy to feel he has suffered minimal injuries.

     Peter was almost finished jogging the distance between the two when Thor thrusted a hand out and pulled Peter into a giant bear hug. “Excellent job, brother! Without your piloting, we surely would all be embedded 6 feet into the mud right now.” He slaps Peter’s back a few times, enjoying that the vibration of his hits somehow didn’t make it around to Peter’s front side, where Thor could feel it.  _ He’s solid _ .

     Peter feels hot and shaky and light all at the same time for all sorts of reasons. “Yeah, man! Yeah!” He hits his back a few times, too, and steps back. Suddenly, wrinkles cut his forehead as he gives Thor a concerned look. “Jeez, your forehead’s cut up real bad.”

     “Ah, just a scratch,” Thor waves his hand, “let’s check on the rest of them, yes?” Thor beams, still high from it all. 

     Peter chews the inside of his cheek, unhappy with Thor’s disinterest for his own wellbeing. He nods anyway, and leads them back to the crash site, where the Guardians are passionately talking at each other. As Thor eventually passes him up, he watches how he strolls up to the group and begins interacting with them. He briefly considers if Thor weighs the same as he did when it was all muscle.

     Rocket greets the two with crossed arms and already-bared teeth. “What did I tell you today? I said, ‘Peter, you know, you’re a good guy. I trust you. So I’m gonna make you captain.’ And-- shut it, I’m talkin’!-- then I knighted you, and I told you not to screw it up. Now, what did you do?”

     Peter rolls his eyes. “I didn’t do  _ anything-- _ ”

     “You  _ screwed it up! _ Come here!” He runs at Peter, who instinctively moves back. “Give me your shoulders, I gotta undo it! Come here!”

     While Mantis covers her mouth with both hands to weakly attempt hiding her laughter, and Drax does absolutely the complete opposite, Thor crawls into the sparking ship and recovers the comms center. It’s completely detached from its frame; wires stick out from the motherboard, reaching toward its rightful connection. Thor shakes his head slowly. “Hey. Guys. Guys!” He turns sharply to see Rocket trying to climb Peter, and Peter violently kicking at himself. “Enough!”

     The two point at each other, and say, “He started it.”

     Thor elects to ignore that. “The comms system is done for. I can’t contact Carol...” He says, turning the radio-like machine over in his hands. Peter approaches him, with a falsely interested face. “...unless one of you has a spare.”

     Peter leans over Thor’s shoulder and looks at it. “No spare, but you  _ do _ have an expert tinkerer on your crew.”

     “Yeah. Me.” Rocket jabs a thumb at himself.

     “I don’t care who fixes it.” Thor declares. “It must be done. Then, the rest of the ship.” He sets the machine down and stands. “Everyone else will contribute to building a temporary shelter, since the ship is unsafe. We’ll have to find fresh water to set up by, and luckily, I’ve built my fair share of log cabins in dire situations.”

     Mantis’ spirit-like voice wisps in. “I eat very little, so you all will not have to worry about portions of food.” She fiddles with her fingers.

     “Aw, bug, you don’t have to do all that.” Rocket pats her calf. “We’ll just give half of Thor’s food to you. Do ya  _ both _ a favor.”

     Peter fights his instinct to mouth off, so he instead crosses his arms and tries not to furrow his face too much. “I’m a real good hunter.” When Thor shoots him an inquisitive look, he adds in, “My daddy taught me.”

     Drax states more than asks, “Which one? The blue one, who is  _ not _ your biological father, or the dead one?”

     “Jeez- the blue one, Drax.” He covers his face for a second, and then looks out on the horizon, trying to move on. “Let’s try that way-- there’s always a river at the bottom of a hill.”

     “Good thinking.” Thor praises Peter, and Peter quietly blushes.

     “I am Groot.” He adds.

     “No, you should stay,” Thor contests. “Peter and I will go scout ahead. We’ll find a place, set up camp, and then come get you all.” Thor looks down to a salvaged piece of tech still installed in the ship. “It says here that this planet is still in morning. It has 14-hour days.”

     “Alright, and what are the rest of us gonna do?” Rocket interrogates.

     “You are most talented in repairs. Begin work on the ship-- try to make it somewhat habitable first,” Thor says as a spark flies off from the ceiling, “and then we’ll track down Carol or find some civilization to help repair the bigger parts. Sound good?”

     Rocket uses every gesture and vocal characteristic there is to show displeasure. “Sounds good.”

     “Okay, Thor, good plan.” Peter pats Thor’s shoulder twice, expecting Thor to understand it as a tag-team motion. Thor doesn’t budge. “Now I’m gonna make it great. Rocket, Drax, Mantis, Groot, Nebula. You all stay here. Nebula and Groot, you protect Rocket while Rocket fixes up the ship. Groot and Mantis, you two work together to make this place habitable, so that way Rocket can focus on more important stuff.” Thor cocks a brow, but lets him give his orders.

     Each section of the crew moves to their positions while Thor and Peter take off towards the treeline. In both of their stomachs is something churning; they hadn’t realized that the plan had perfectly paired the two of them alone.

     “Hey, so, my blasters will pretty much murder anything I shoot. Do you have any smaller weapons I can use for the time being?” Peter rubs his hands together as he strolls.

     “I’ve got my hammer, my axe, and lightning.” Thor gives his response with a ‘sorry, bud’ type of expression, where one corner of his mouth is turned up in sympathy.

     “Hm. I’ll take the hammer, I guess.”

_      Ah, this never gets old,  _ Thor thinks as he sticks his hand out, calling on Mjolnir. As she flies in, Peter continues.

     “Now, I’m not one to brag, but once, I scored the highest score on Sakaar playing Galatic-Whack-A-Mole.” Peter reaches out for the hammer. “So, I should be a natura-- EUGH!” He hits the ground faster than Thor can laugh. When Peter catches his breath, he pants out, “Oh, really? Gravity pullers?” Thor continues laughing as Peter obliviously searches the hammer for a device he won’t find. “I can disable these, you know!”

     Thor continues walking as Peter ignorantly pulls on the hilt. “Go ahead.”

     He grabs a small circular disc from his front breast pocket and sticks it on a flat side of the hammer. It shoots out some hooks, taser-style, and lights up. “You’re not the first person to try this type of thing, you know.” Peter flips a switch, and it beeps in response. He looks up to Thor with a cocky smile before picking it u-- picking--  _ picking it--  _ “What the hell is goin’ on here?!”

     Thor can barely get the words out. “You-- you’ve never heard the tale of Mjolnir?”

     “The tale of what? Mold-near?”

     “That there.. Is a hammer crafted by the master dwarven smith Eitri of Nidavellir. Within the weapon lies the potential to grant one godship; my father enchanted it, so that anyone who may be worthy may wield Mjolnir, and possess the power of I.” Thor picks it up, and flips it, with disgusting pride.

     “Aw, yeah? What makes you so worthy?” The two continue to walk off.

     “Well, I’ve helped return four billion people to their families-- including you. I’ve saved hundreds on Earth prior to that, I stopped a Terminator rip-off from destroying a small town in New Mexico, and I prevented an apocalypse in 2013.”

     “‘Kay, well, I’ve done stuff like that, before, too.” Peter whines.

     Thor leans in a bit, and with a stage whisper obnoxious enough to rub it in,“Yeah, but you also probably lied at some point in your life, too.”

     Peter feeds the desire to defend himself. “No!”

     Thor stares at him.

     “Man, I don’t need your hammer anyway,” he mutters, walking a little faster than Thor’s casual stroll. “Who even fights with a hammer?”

 

     A while later, the two find the river and trail it, continuing their banter as they go. Peter learns that Thor likes snakes when they encounter one, and Thor learns that Peter really likes to talk.

     “And then, this real fancy lady, which they called the Queen, came up to me and threatened to  _ kill _ me! Can you believe that? After everything I’d done for her Baboon people, or whatever they’re called--”

     “Badoon. The race is called the Badoon.”

     “--Sure. Anyway, it was just annoying. So we robbed ‘em and broke some of their fancy vases.”

     After around ten minutes of walking through thick underbrush, the two stumble onto a clearing good enough for a small camp, armed with a circle of stones previously used as a fire. 

     “This’ll work.” Thor says, putting his hands on his hips.

     “Aren’t you scared that someone’s using this spot already?” Peter questions.

     With his hands on his hips, Thor confidently responds. “No. This soot is old, and even if it wasn’t, I don’t think they’d want to fight with us over a spot.” 

     After chewing it over, Peter nods. “D’you want me to start fishin’?”

     “Yes. I’ll start on the shelter. We should leave here to retrieve the team in 6 hours.”

     “Eh, we’ll see.” Peter retorts, and then turns to the river anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, get ready for some real thorquill domesticity in the next chapter!!  
> aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!! thank you so much for reading holy crap! ur makin my day here guy!!! please leave kudos and comments, especially comments, they will let me know that there are people out there enjoying this stuff!!


	3. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter works hard for a livin'. Thor gets fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so goddamn sorry that it took me almost four months to update this. i realized that i can only write long-term when i am in school for whatever reason, so that means you can HOPEFULLY expect the next chapter a bit sooner-- no promises. please enjoy this adorably domestic and menial fluff alongside terribly sad angst. thank you so much to my two dear, unnamed friends for editing, and to my dear friend kay, who you can find at cinequeen.tumblr.com (or on her crackship blog murdockquills.tumblr.com -- i will be posting stardevil content at some point, so be ready for that) for catching all of my mistakes.
> 
> chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, ptsd-like flashbacks to endgame and IW events, semi-sexual language and content (notice change in rating, but not to explicit. we're not there yet.) characters mentioned: loki, rocket, drax, hela, frigga, odin, yondu, peter's bio parents.

     “You don’t-- like, have her number or something?”

     Thor heaves the axe over his shoulder, and with a crack, the log snaps in half. He sets the two pieces to the side and centers a new one on the stump. 

     Before raising his axe again, he says, “Her number? Like, her telephone number? No, I don’t think she carries a telephone.” As Thor brings his arms down, the sharp iron halves the log. He tosses the axe to the side, and answers, “Not really any, uh, pockets there,” he gestures to his chest and hips, “in her suit.”

     As Thor talks, Peter thinks about how Thor’s biceps tightened and contracted as they moved over his head when he split the wood. The last time Peter was interested in how the body moves was when he spent a night with a Shi’ar chick; he never thought he could be turned on by feathers.  _ Isn’t he a Valkyrie? Don’t they have wings? Maybe Thor can, like, deploy them whenever he wants. _ When Thor turns to him, holding his hands over each breast as if to mimic Carol’s uniform, Peter pointedly stops himself from fantasizing. 

     “Well, that’s dumb. How else are we supposed to get in contact with her?” Peter huffs, taking a seat on the stump. “I mean, she couldn’t have  _ one _ pocket? A backpack? A utility belt, even?”

     Thor wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. A sweat stain spots the middle of his grey t-shirt, and his stomach-- even only after about an hour’s work-- looks less like a belly and more like a…  tummy. 

     “I know, it is silly.” Thor looks over to catch Peter’s expression.  _ Dopey. Curious. Puppy-like. Reminds me of Lang.  _ “Luckily, however, this planet is the size of your Earth’s Texas. We haven't seen it yet, but there is civilization here. Carol said something about when the snap, the-- the first snap, happened… that all of their people disappeared, not just half. And when Tony-- when… w-when Tony…”  _ When Tony, a  _ human _ , sacrificed himself in front of you, and you, a God probably capable of reversing the first snap without the stones, just watched. And then continued to watch as he died because of it.  _ Thor’s voice grows weak and breathy as if he suddenly feels faint.

     “Yeah, I wish I could have got ta know him better. Cool tech. Not great at planning, but a good guy.” Peter wonders if Thor’s drunk or not. He watches Thor as he stares off, shrinking further and further. “Hey, uh. If the planet’s small, then she can't be that far, right? Can’t we, like, make a noise to get her attention or something?”

     Thor comes back to his body when he hears Peter using ‘she’ pronouns.  _ That means it's safe. It isn't him anymore, it isn't Tony. _ “What-- what happened after… the second snap, the people of this place, they didn't come back. Or that's what Carol thought.” Thor’s eye catches quick sight of Peter’s shoulder-- solid, static, big. He reaches out to touch it before he can think.  _ Solid. Not shaking. Safe. He is safe.  _ “It is impossible for them to have not returned. I think they did, and then something else killed them.” Thor lets go of him. “And it may still be here.”

     Peter puts his hands on his hips, and leans his weight on one foot. “Well, whatever was here didn’t have two gods ready to kick their ass.” He looks up towards Thor with a supportive smile, before activating his helmet, seemingly in pride. “Well-- one and a half, but, still. More god than they’ll ever be.” He looks around, surveying the land around them. After Thor doesn’t respond, he grows concerned and deactivates his helmet. “Thor?”

     Thor’s eyes and cheeks stayed sad while his mouth put the facade of a smile on his face. “Well, we-- we, we, we can’t just go right into battle without some rest, right? I mean, we have to support our crew, give them shelter! I mean, they  _ are _ expecting us to build one.” He bargains.

     Peter shakes his head for a moment, ready to fight. “You just said there could be  _ another _ enemy capable of wiping out half a population. Now you don’t want to fight ‘em?” His concern for his crew waiting on him back at the Benatar grew stronger. They need to be safe. You know, he was starting to grow on Thor the past couple of days, but right then… he felt like he did before, how he hated him. Until Thor looks up at him, eyes weary. 

     Thor’s voice comes out shaking, quiet, and desperate.  _ Too desperate. _ “Let’s just build somewhere safe to stay,” he pleads.

     Peter’s disappointment hasn’t just vanished, but it’s been replaced. He wants nothing but to comfort Thor. “Okay. We can do that.” He nods, encouragingly.

     Thor nods. Then, he nods again. “Okay. We’ll finish up what we’ve started here, and go back to the Benatar. Tell them of our find, stay one night, and continue on when we are rested.” He looks at Peter, and smiles. Really smiles. He’s got to convince him. “Right? It is better to be energized and ready, in case there is a fight. And there might not even be a fight! Ha. Yes, we’re just on this planet to see if-- if somewhere, someone needs our help.”

     Peter takes a short moment to watch Thor, to study his emotions and demeanor. He appears like he’s genuinely leaving behind the negativity he had just a minute ago. Peter nods. “Yeah, I agree. C’mon, let’s get back to it.”

     Thor nods, claps Peter on the back twice, and stands up. “This river will soon run dry. I believe you’ve fished it clean, and I believe that this land continues to fall down that way. There’s going to be another river at the bottom of this hill, and maybe it’ll be more fruitful.”

     Peter materializes his helmet by tapping behind his ear. “For sure, for sure. I’ll head down now, scout it out.”

     “No, no. That won’t be necessary.” He reaches out, calling on Mjolnir. “I’ll take you down much faster.” He gives him a pleased smile.

     “Oh, uh-- I mean, that’s not-- you don’t have to. My jet-boots are fast enough--”

     “Come on, hop aboard.” He flips Mjolnir, adjusting his grip.

     “Uh-- hop aboard? What-- where do I--?”

     Thor pulls him in, wrapping a big, sweatshirt-ed arm around Peter’s waist.

     Peter talks faster now. “You know, I could probably fly next to you just as fast, so-- HOOOLYYY SHIIIIIIT!” He screams as they dash quickly to the bottom of the hill. His shrill screech doesn’t stop even after they land. Peter holds tightly onto Thor’s torso, tight enough where his hands are able to clasp together on the other side. The adrenaline and nausea reminds him of times when he had to jump through more than 5 hyperspace jump-points in a row on jobs. He starts to feel sick.

     Thor looks to Peter once both of their feet are on the ground. He watches Peter’s expression of fear for a few moments before clearing his throat and saying, “This spot will do,” referring to the nice river bank they landed on. Thor lets go of Peter-- which is when Peter opens his eyes to check the surroundings-- and sets Mjolnir down. He then quickly calls Stormbreaker to him, too, and sets her down as well. Peter calms from completely terrified to only a little mortally shocked. Thor speaks up.

     “I’m going to get started on fishing. Why don’t you start building a fire, so we can eat right away?”

     “Already on it!” He nervously quips, happy to do something more earthly and away from Thor’s roaring personality. He digs to the back of his mind, trying to recall survival skills. His dad never taught him any of that because his dad was an alien, and his uncle wasn’t really around too much. And his mom had cancer. So, he guesses it’s up to him now to figure it out. His grandpa mentioned something about making a fire from what you can find naturally... he searches around, checking his environment. He picks up some sticks from the bank floor and throws them into a pile. Really, the sticks were already in a pile, he just moved it. He looks back to Thor, who is reeling in a fish. He bites the inside of his cheek.

     “Aha! Carp!” Thor holds up the still-twitching fish in the air in celebration. Peter quickly imagines him doing the same motion with a beer in hand, after winning some big battle or being re-elected as King of the Gods.  _ That’s how his world works, right? They vote? _

     “Awesome! Yeah, I’m-- making big steps over here-- we’re gonna have a  _ big _ fire, uh, soon.” He shouts over to Thor. Looking around again, he’s able to find and collect two rocks. Then, he squats down to his prideful pile of sticks and hopelessly clacks the rocks together. “Nothing. Okay. Okay,” he says to himself. Then, he tries again. Furrowing his brows, he mutters, “Don’t you just--” and tries again. This time, though, his fingers are caught in between the stones and he yelps out, dropping them before he clasps his palms together and sticks his hands between his thighs, inhaling through the pain. His face glows pink, hoping Thor didn’t hear his immature little scream.

     Thor provides him with the dignity of pretending he didn’t hear anything, but watches after Peter turns away. He watches Peter’s fingers, poking out from between the thighs of his nylon-denim pants. He spies as they remain frigid, and notices how the blood trapped by the pressure of his leg made the tips fat and pink. Peter finally exhales (Thor could tell-- Peter’s back muscles contracted as his back concaved, which was easy to see through his thin, cotton, sweat-soaked shirt) and tries wiggling his fingers a little. Peter stands back up straight, unknowingly showing off the sharp arch in his lower back, and shakes his hands out. Then, with his knees outward, he squats, ready to try again. 

     “You can’t start a fire with just any two rocks. You need a piece of steel and a piece of flint. It’s easier if you just use your blasters, though.” Thor pitches in, and for a moment, he regrets correcting him, because Peter stands up. He misses the view.

     “Alright, I can do that.” He obeys. He shakes his hand out one more time, and then begins to add to the pile he shifted around earlier. When he feels his collection is adequate, he finalizes it with some pebbles. He swaggers backward, checking over his blaster (and if Thor is looking), takes aim, and speaks in a stage whisper to himself. “Alright, here we go.”

     Thor props himself up on the axe, his ankles crossed, watching. Almost nothing in Thor’s pose changes when Peter’s blaster rips a half-foot hole in the ground and burnable pile, tossing dirt into the air and onto their hair and faces, aside from widening of his eyes. Peter wipes his eyes clean and mutters, “It… was… still on max power from the battle with the, uh, grape…”

     Thor completely ignores the mention of his emotional terrorist, and instead, laughs at Peter. “Silly.” He shakes his head and, with a few powerful hacks, finishes cutting down tree number three. It falls in the opposite direction of the two, bridging their river. “Here-- you can take some of the firewood,” he gestures to his pile of kindling, “since… there’s no more tinder.” He tries not to laugh. The ache in Thor’s abdomen from the extensive laughter in his and Peter’s journey so far, and the throbbing in his biceps from the heavy handwork he’d been doing for hours now gave him a glimmer of hope for getting in shape.  _ Just like mother wanted. _

     Peter walks over and snatches up a log with a disgruntled tone. He armpits it and takes out his Zune, putting his earbuds in. Thor notices him, noting that he makes that dumb, pouty face every time he puts the music on.

     “This is why I haven’t been working well.” He hits shuffle. A guitar, playing short, three-cord riffs in between mute strums grooves into Peter’s head. The tune fills him, slowly, with thoughts of sweet craft beer and honeyed tea. His foot starts to tap, then his calf lifts with each step. As the song continues, more of his body fills, and as each part fills, it joins his feet in dance.

 

_           And if your train's on time, you can get to work by nine _

_           And start your slaving job to get your pay _

_           If you ever get annoyed, look at me I'm self-employed _

_           I love to work at nothing all day _

_           And I'll be taking care of business (every day) _

 

     Peter grabs a few pieces of firewood and starts to build a new, more refined pile, but nothing about Peter himself could be refined. He dances dirty. Using the thrust of his jet-boots, he flies hips-first to the wood pile Thor started chopping up. He grabs a few trunks, and with esteemed coordination, cha-chas back to his pile. He lifts each hip effortlessly, timing each pop with a precise amount of delay to the cyclical groove of his arms. He poorly moonwalks his way over to some bushes, but not without dropping the logs on the new firesite on the way. He, much to Thor’s stupor, drops. Peter raises an arm in the air before spreading his legs as his ass sinks to the ground, making his pants stretch and groan with tension against the obvious clefts of his cheeks. Peter croons along, “If it were easy as fishin' you could be a musician, if you could make sounds loud or mellow--!” He kicks out to the side before standing back up with a shirt-basket-full of rocks, which he places around the pile of tinder to contain the fire. He lifts the barrel of his blaster to his mouth, using it as a microphone (“ _ People see you having fun just a-lying in the sun _ ,” he points a blaming finger at Thor, who takes a break from actually, actively laying the groundwork for a cabin to grimace at Peter). He changes its’ setting to non-lethal, strikes a pose which just happens to aim his blaster at the pile, and fires. The flames come to life just as the chorus begins. He struts off, continuing to dance, now that his goal is achieved.

     The moment Peter looks away, Thor’s joking scowl dissipates. If it weren’t for his beard, Thor’s neck would be completely exposed, since he throws his head back. That way, when his eyes were turned skyward, he wouldn’t act on his thoughts after watching something so fiercely attractive. His lips were parted, and from them, a short grunt sounds off.  _ Preferences change, and  _ my, they change so  _ suddenly… _ He couldn’t think freely for too long, though. Thoughts of self-hatred inch back into his mind.  _ Too fat He wouldn’t think the same way Could you even fuck him when you’re so unhealthy Your heart would give out-- _

     Thor bellows back loudly to the sinister voices.  _ I’m getting better! You all suck! _

     “Excellent, Quill.” He motions to the fire. “Now, could you take these pieces here, and mark a ten by ten foot space, right about there?” Thor asks.

     Peter doesn’t vocalize a yes-- instead, he vocalizes the lyrics to the next song on the mix-- but he does dance his way over to the timber. “How can I _try_ … to ex _-plain…_ when I _do,_ he turns a- _way_ again!” Peter kneels and materializes the start of the cabin, atop the sticks Thor positioned earlier. “It’s always been… the same, same old story…” His singing slows when a certain blue-skinned, red-finned alien dad whistles his way to the front of Peter’s mind. Peter regrets not asking Yondu how he was feeling more often than he did. He knows, though, that Yondu would just blame him for gettin’ _soft_ _on me, boy?_ -so he gets over it real quick. He can always learn from his mistakes, though, he thought.

     Peter takes his headphones out. “You know, it’s just us out here.”  _ Oh, that’s weird, Pete, fix it. _ “I was wondering if-- well, I guess I just want to know my crew a lil’ better. How are you feeling, after everything that, uh… yeah?”

     “Fine!” Thor booms. It spooks Peter a bit, and Thor notices Peter’s eyebrows raise. “I feel quite fine,” Thor quiets, “everything is back to normal-- every _ one _ is back. All is well.” He smiles, asking, ‘right?’

     Peter steps forward. “There’s… some people that can’t come back. I’m glad that all of yours did. That’s good. Really good.” He chokes out and turns away, trying to ignore his reddening face and stinging eyes.  _ Why do I cry so fuckin’ easy? _

     Thor huffs out in disappointment as soon as he realizes that the topic is no longer about him. Then, he instantly recognizes the selfish behavior and feels guilty, but…  _ I wanted to be so happy, that he realized it was fake, and then he’d bring his big, solid body over and comfort me.  _ It didn’t work. Thor noticed that Peter had been aloof today, and it frustrated him a little. The sound of Peter clearing his throat brings him back to the task at hand: make  _ him _ feel safe. Thor thought, if I can help him, then surely I can help myself.

     “Listen, Quill.” He plants his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I lost… I lost my brother, Loki. He… wasn’t snapped.”  _ Snapped. Yeah, he was snapped. Just not snapped  _ away. “So he can’t come back, either.” Thor pulls on his shoulder, trying to get Peter to look at him. Peter’s eyebrows were bowed, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, jaw clenched, and lips pulled tightly between his teeth. Thor knew what that meant-- tears were inbound, and there was no stopping them.

     Thor continues. “I watched as he betrayed me, for the hundredth time,” he laughs a bit as he tells on, even though the grim scene of Loki heroically faking his ‘undying fidelity’ to Thanos as part of a plan starts to play in his mind’s theatre, “but he showed me only moments later that he was doing it for the better of allkind.” He solemnly smiles through the sting in his cheeks. “It’s… what got him killed, in the end.”

     Thor sees it in front of him now; Peter, the campground, and the budding home fade away, only to be replaced by the heavy mist of battle and ash. Ebony Maw, Thanos, Heimdall and the blade that ended him lay out in front of him now, so vividly. Thanos picks Loki up by his neck, and moves his thumb over Loki’s throat. It’s only a single finger, but the pressure and strength is enough to collapse Loki’s forever-fragile frame. Enough to… snap his neck. He hears the sound of the snap-- he remembers dissociating for just a moment to think on how it sounded less like a snap and more like a crackle. He sees Loki’s skin pale faster than he thought it would, as Ebony Maw’s parlor tricks keeps him from saving his brother.

     Thor’s words resonate in Peter’s ears, and Peter doesn’t welcome them. They reel the memories of his mother begging to take her hand, his father indoctrinating him with false truths of eternity, Yondu forcing him to squeeze into air vents to get into the office of a high-ranking officer to steal some medal worth a pretty penny. But, this time, in these memories, each of the opposite figures was dead. His mother reaches out stiffly with a cold, somehow more pale palm; his father, impaled on some strange, prickly vine of his own making; Yondu, neck snapped as he sits limp on his beggar’s throne.

     Peter couldn’t have possibly knew, his face is too numb in anxiety to feel it, but he unwillingly zoned out from Thor’s consoling voice long ago, and fell victim to the snaking hallucinations.

     Peter doesn’t know which one came first: Thor’s voice, distant and dampened but still sharply healing as it asks, “Peter?”, or when he gives way into Thor’s solid, comforting arms. They both can’t help but do something to relieve the pressure in their hearts. Thor immediately assures Peter, “I’m here, I’m here, Peter,” while slowly snaking his hand up Peter’s back without crossing the uncharted territory past his collar, where the bare skin of his neck lay. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

     Peter trembles when he whimpers out, “I lost  _ everything _ , Thor,  _ everyone... _ ” His throat is dry and sore already.

     Thor, using the one inch he has on Peter, now speaks into his ear, trying to get him to ground himself. “I know. I know what that feels like.” He wishes he didn’t.

     Peter feels Thor’s hand rub into his back, and it gives him conflict. He wants to keep crying, keep letting his chest empty until there’s nothing left, but he also wants to take everything back. He wants to go back to when he shot a hole in the ground and fix that mistake, he wants to go back to when he was dancing happily, he wants to erase everything that hit him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Peter’s breathing slows, and he gives a few good, hefty sniffs.

     Thor looks towards the planet’s sky, and takes note that the sun has risen considerably. They needed to hurry on the shelter if they were going to stay a night before moving forward. Thor realizes he’ll need to work fast to get Peter and his family a shelter before the night falls. “The day is moving fast, Peter. Let’s try to work this grief out of us.” Thor pulls back from the hug and slides his hands to Peter’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes.  _ Red. Tired. Ready to do anything else. _ “Okay?”

     With his brows drawn and his lip pouted, he nods, and gives a simple, “M’kay,” before wiping his nose and shaking his head rapidly, trying to  _ man up, boy! _

     “Hey,  _ blondies! _ We makin’ out over here, or what?” Rocket’s brogue voice cuts through the foliage as he makes his way towards the new camp. Peter quickly activates his helmet before turning to listen to the rest of Rocket’s insults. “The ship’s fried, so we need a place to stay while I make the repairs.”

     Thor steps in front of Peter, crossing his arms and broadening his stance. “I’m working on it. We’ll have a small cabin just by nightfall.” Peter looks away at the ground, loudly blushing in embarrassment and shame under the helmet.

     “Good. Drax is getting bored, and he’s stabbin’ the ground, so if we could hurry this up, I’d appreciate it.”

     “Way ahead of you, friend,” Thor quips.

     Rocket turns and heads into the treeline, assumingly back to the group. Peter curses to himself and thinks,  _ why couldn’t he have just radio-ed us? _ He shuts his helmet off, happy to get some cool, fresh air onto his burning cheeks. He turns back to Thor. “We’d… better get back to work.”

     “I’m going to focus on the house. If you could continue to get food, the fire ready, blankets, all that. We’ll be ready before you know it.” Thor places a hand on Peter’s shoulder again--  _ God damn it, when he does that--  _ and gives him a smile. The type that’s knowing, that’s forgiving, that creases the eyes just a little, just enough to tell you it’s real.

     Something swells in Peter when Thor turns away and returns back to work. He can’t put a finger on it. He thinks,  _ embarrassment? Shame? Inferiority-- no, I’m not inferior to him. I gotta stop thinking that. _ He settles himself at the riverbank, dipping his boots into the calmly dancing waters.  _ Excitement. That’s better. Maybe I’m just excited to have a new fr-- _

     Peter hears the crack of another log, and he turns his head. Thor runs his hand through his hair, interlocking his fingers with the yellow dreads.

_      Oh, fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHIT thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for reading you are literally??? a pirate angel baby. thank you so much. please leave kudos if you loved the chapter and leave a comment to keep me going!!! love u kid!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! your kudos would be extremely appreciated; it will fuel me to keep writing!!


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